


Lucid Dreamer

by Georgella



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Angst and Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, F/M, Lemons, Supernatural Elements, War Crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-07-25 17:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Georgella/pseuds/Georgella
Summary: Clary Fairchild moved across the world with her best friend to try and live a more "Mundane" life. Art School, regular friends and no demon hunting. But then the dreams of golden hair and eyes haunt her. She worries this could be her destined 'mate', but has no idea how to find them until her father's plan to bring down the world brings them together.Clace pairing. Possible future lemons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! If you're able to, leave me a review - I love to hear what you guys think.
> 
> Link to Jace's Outfit: https://shoplook.io/outfit-preview/818892  
Link to Clary's Outfit: https://shoplook.io/outfit-preview/818819
> 
> Song inspo for this chapter: Roslyn by Bon Iver & St Vincent.

**CLARY**

Rain splattered on the glass, her windscreen wipers moving back and forth in a metronomic rhythm. The only thing keeping Clary Fairchild from falling asleep at the wheel was the comforting smell of the two large pepperoni pizzas on the passenger seat next to her. She had promised her best friend (and roommate) Simon, that she would pick up dinner after she finished work at the local Art school, and she wasn’t someone who backed out of a promise.

She watched the grey London skyline slowly edge past her windows as she gradually got closer to her university’s residence parking. While she and Simon didn’t live in the residence halls, they shared an old brick Victorian which belonged to Simons aunt just opposite, she always felt safer parking in a well-lit and watched place. Especially when she finished so late at night.

It had been 3 years since she had moved across the world to London from her home in New York City. Her mother, Luke & the whole of the New York Institute had tried to convince her to stay but she stubbornly stuck to her gut, which was telling her that this was the right move for her. Her artistic mind yearned for the adventures of travel, of new landscapes, people, sights and smells.

That – and she wanted to try living a more ‘mundane’ life while she still could; before the shadow world called her back and she had to be a full-time Shadowhunter. So, she applied for The Slade School of Fine Art, one she never thought would accept her, but much to her surprise – said they loved her art and welcomed her in and packed her bags and kissed her life as she knew it goodbye.

Luckily for her, Simon was already living over there, studying music and production. It just seemed like it was fate, that it was meant to be – and she sure as shit wasn’t going to say no the Angels will. 

Shutting off the car, she grimaced as she leapt out into the grey drizzle and, with pizza’s and purse in hand, she jogged over to her home, opening the garden gate and dashing through the front door before she got completely soaked by the deceptively heavy rain.

“Clary! Is that pizza I smell?” The voice rang out from the kitchen at the end of the hall. One of the tracks Simon and his friends were working on played softly through the speakers and she hummed in familiarity. She kicked off her docs and hung her rain-soaked jacket and purse on the hooks next to the front door and started to meander down the hall.

Simon’s curly brown head popped around the corner from the kitchen and smiled toothily in a way only he could - goofy, eager and sweet. Sometimes she wondered if she was best friends with a Labrador and not a human. But she wouldn’t trade him for anything.

“C’mon C! I’m hungry!” his head disappeared, and she heard the clanking of plates onto the kitchen counter and something being poured into glasses. She rolled her eyes at his eagerness, definitely struggling to match his energy and enthusiasm for life at that moment in time. As she got closer, Simon came out into the hallway and grabbed the boxes from her hands, planting an eager kiss on the top of her head. Clary followed behind him and plonked herself down on one of the stools and watched as he plopped a few slices on her plate and pushed a glass of red wine towards her.

In between bites, Simon seemed to sense Clary’s still furrowed brow as she nibbled her pizza.

“I jest! AS the best Joker DC has seen said; Why so serious?” turning on his best Heath Ledger impression as he laughed at his own joke and waggled his eyebrows at her, trying to get her resolve to crack, even just a little.

It seemed his mission was successful, because, through her tired haze, she smiled up at him, in a smile she reserved just for him 

“It’s just been a really REALLY long week, Si. I just need a few days off to recharge, paint and let myself center again. But that’s all gonna have to wait until I get these assignments done.” She sighed, taking a final bite of her pizza and pushing the plate away. She absentmindedly played with the rim of the wine glass, gliding her finger around the rim and listening to it hum.

Simon sighed in response, a grimace washing over his face and he pushed his glasses back up his nose. “You’re telling me. I barely have had time for food this week. My band and I have to go into practice tonight so we can finalise our recording for production tomorrow.”

Clary nodded and got up from the bench and stretched her arms above her head until she could feel her back crack in stiffness. Through her yawn, she managed to convey to a slightly confused Simon that she was going to have a bath and then go to bed.

Refilling her wine glass, she headed back down the hall to the first door on the left, her bedroom. Placing the wineglass on her bookshelf, she flopped onto her bed in a groaning sigh. Her room was her safe haven. It was decorated in warm woods, burgundy and mustards, plants and artworks adorning the floors and walls. In the corner next to her chest of drawers stood her easel, paints, pastels and charcoals, patiently waiting for her to resume where she had left off.

Rolling over, she reached for her charger and plugged her phone in and placed it onto her bedside table, next to the clutter of books, charcoal and photos from back home. She switched on the fairy lights which adorned her black wrought iron bed head; they instantly bathed the room in a soft ethereal glow.

She laid on her bed for a few more moments, trying to dull out the constant buzz in her mind but nothing worked. Recently Clary had been having more vivid dreams than usual. Nothing in particular, but they were always the same. Golden eyes and golden hair. Gentle hands and warm embraces. But they were lost, lost in the darkness she couldn’t navigate no matter how much she tried. She always woke feeling the same, like she had lost a great love; the sadness and grief washing over her like a tidal wave until it felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore. She must have drawn those golden eyes a million times, every spare piece of paper seemed to become an outlet for her stretched mind.

She had read about the first line of Shadowhunter’s being so full of the angel’s blood that they were thought to be able to feel their soulmate. But that magic was now long diluted and the current generation’s more potent powers were lost to the ravages of time. But with Clary’s extra angel blood (thanks to her father’s experimentation) she couldn’t help but wonder if that gift had woken itself in her. She hoped not though, because she wasn’t sure how much more of this heartbreak she could take.

Rubbing her green eyes, she sighed and peeled herself off the white comforter. Grabbing her pyjamas from one of her draws – an old band tee and shorts – she walked over to the door to her bathroom, which connected to her room.

As she got under the hot steamy spray, she relished in the stinging water splashing down onto her skin, turning her red in the process. The pain of it felt good – it distracted her from whoever he was that was haunting her dreams. She scrubbed and washed the day from her, taking comfort in her lavender and vanilla soap that reminded her of home. After she had washed the copper tangled mess that was her hair, she got out, wiping the condensation off the mirror to look at the tired face that looked back at her.

Her mother always told her that she looked like her grandmother. Told Clary that she was a great beauty in her time, and a fierce personality, something they seemed to have in common. Her frame was petite, but her muscles were slender and strong from hours of training. She had curves, but not outrageous ones. Her neck was slender and her features soft. Her green eyes, usually vibrant, were surrounded by dark circles. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles, and her long hair was a vibrant copper wave.

Sighing, she towelled her body dry and dressed. She brushed her teeth, and then attacked her hair into some resemblance of a plait and then trudged back into her room.

Her phones glow on her bedside table caught her attention and she crawled under the covers and shuffled over to her phone to see what was going on. It was a message from Isabelle back in New York. They usually chatted once a week, but Clary just wasn’t feeling up to it today. She messaged her back an apology and put the phone down, closing her eyes and embracing the quiet of the house. Simon must have left when she was in the shower because she could no longer hear him lumbering around upstairs in his room. 

As much as she tried to fight it, Clary couldn’t resist the clutches of sleep any longer, and sunk into the darkness to see her golden eyed mystery.

* * *

She awoke a few hours later, the morning sun streaming in through the sheer curtains and basking everything it touched in a golden light. Her night, as expected had been as restful as she had expected. She had dreamed of whoever he was, again. Rubbing the dried tears from her eyes, she glanced the clock on her phone and saw it was just hitting 6:30 in the morning. As she lay there slowly waking up her phone started to buzz. Confused as to who would be calling her at this time in the morning she rolled over and grabbed her phone, holding it close to her face to read the number through squinting eyes.

_The London Institute _the phones screen displayed.

She groaned and ran a hand over her face. She knew that she had to eventually go and check in with them. She had only been in once, right after she had arrived, and had avoided going back at all costs. It wasn’t that she didn’t like it there, on the contrary, stepping inside that beautiful old church was like stepping into slippers, comfortable and familiar. It was just that she was trying to live a normal life for a while, and she knew Shadowhunting was firmly not in the ‘Mundane’ category of things, as Alec would say.

Already regretting her choice, Clary slid her thumb over her phone and answered the call 

“Hey, this is Clary.” She tried to make it sound like she wasn’t still half asleep, but she didn’t think she succeeded.

“Hello Clary, this is Seb, we met when you first moved over?” The voice sounded hesitant, as if unsure Clary would remember.

Clary remembered him though. He had just graduated school when she saw him, he was a good few years younger. But he was keen to go out on mission and his mother who was the head of the institute, forbade it until he had done more study. He had yelled at her and stormed off. It wasn’t something you easily forgot. 

“Yes, Hi Seb. How can I help you this early in the morning?” She tried to not sound annoyed, but she knew he could detect it.

“Uh…right. Well, I was told to tell you to come in this morning. We’ve had a major breach regarding your father’s imprisonment in Alicante and my mother, I mean, the Head of the Institute, wants to speak with you personally.” He rushed the words out, as if nervous of forgetting something vital.

“Oh. Right…well, I’ll be round as soon as I can. Thanks, Seb.” Clary hung up the phone before the boy could utter another word 

Her father.

_Valentine._

The one man she knew she shouldn’t be scared of but couldn’t quite let her self be anything otherwise. The man who was responsible for nearly pulling the world apart 25 years ago. The man who from his holding cell in prison had somehow now, Clary assumed, escaped. She knew they wouldn’t be contacting her otherwise. She knew her mother would likely be getting a similar call in a few hours’ time when she woke up from Maryse Lightwood, the head of the New York Institute. 

Fear puddled in her stomach and sloshed uneasily as she pulled herself out of the bed and stretched. A quick glance out the window and she walked over to her drawers to find something to wear. Settling on a green wool knit, black jeans, her trusty docs and her leather jacket, she quickly dressed. Dabbing on some quick mascara and a spritz of perfume, she stuffed her things into her old backpack and set out the door. She wasn’t going to bother waking Simon to say goodbye. She knew he must have been up late into the night and deserved some semblance of beauty sleep.

Clary jogged over to her car and set off in the direction of the institute. It wasn’t long before the familiar stone frame pulled itself into view. From a mundane, this building looked run down and abandoned. But to Clary, it still shone in all its aged beauty. She tried to ignore the tugging pull she had felt in her stomach all morning but as she pulled up, it was as if it was stronger somehow.

She parked on the street and stole a quick glance in the mirror before taking a deep breath and getting out. The morning was brisk and cool, but the clouds had parted to allow the sun’s rays to gently settle and warm all it touched. It was the perfect morning.

Clary walked up the steps and pulled open the door, only to be greeted by an eager Sebastian on the other side 

“Hello!” He chirped in his English lilt, laughing that they had almost run into one another.

Clary blushed and shook her head, “Oh Angel! My bad, sorry... I should have watched myself.”

Seb smiled at her, his blue eyes sparkling. How could anyone other than Simon be this happy in the morning? “No problem! Shall I show you to my Mother? Or do you know the way? 

Just as Clary went to answer, a deeper voice spoke behind him, rough and languid, like whisky on velvet. “No need, Seb. I’ll take her. I’m sure your mother would prefer you on duty?”

Clary peered around Seb to see where the voice was coming from and the moment she saw him she knew.

Golden hair.

Golden eyes.

_It was him. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> Thanks for waiting. Hope you're enjoying these two as much as I am.   
As always, please leave me a review - it really makes my day to know what you guys think!
> 
> Love and coffee always,
> 
> G

_Song Inspiration of Chapter: Drown by Bring Me the Horizon & The Dreamer by I The Mighty_

** CHAPTER 2 **

**JACE**

When Jace had woken up that morning it had just been like the rest. Uneventful. His dreams plagued with alabaster skin, green eyes and swirling shades of red. He’d been dreaming of _her _for a few months now. No matter what, or who, he tried, he couldn’t get the feeling of her from under his skin. Whatever she was to him, it was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

That uneasy gnawing knot in the base of his stomach had tossed and twirled uncomfortably for weeks and this morning had just grown stronger. He had been extra sarcastic to poor Seb all morning as he had tried to do his morning duties. He, in all honesty, just wanted to be left alone. He wanted this feeling to go away.

It was driving him insane.

Jace wasn’t the one for meaningful, long standing relationships. In fact, he thought of himself quite the lone wolf. His parents had died when he was young, and he was raised by a grandmother who was hardly home due to her being the Inquisitor of the Clave. He didn’t even call her Grandmother – instead opting for plain Imogen – which in his opinion suited her cold and stony exterior. Not that she particularly bothered or cared much. Whatever warmth she had had died when her son, Jace’s father, and her husband, his grandfather, had died. Jace liked to live in the moment, never planning further than a few days ahead.

His relationships, if you could even call them that, usually burnt quick and fast. He’d meet a girl somewhere, go back to their house, he’d get to know her a little more…intimately, and then once she was asleep, he’d gather his things and leave. Usually ending up back at the institute training room to beat his frustrations out of a punching bag until he was so physically and mentally exhausted, he’d have to drag himself back to his old room and collapse in a sweaty heap.

Jace had never invited a girl back to his apartment. He liked to keep his space as private as possible. It was the only place where he could truly relax and be himself. Thanks to the rather large inheritance his father had left him, Jace was quite comfortable financially. He’d been able to buy himself a large, penthouse apartment in an old renovated warehouse which only held 2 other apartments. His space was open, and sparsely furnished. Polished concrete, matte black steel and iron were intertwined with a golden solid oak. The whole apartment followed a neutral grey, navy and charcoal palette. He’d never really been one for furnishing so he’d recruited one of his old contacts from New York, Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn and someone, in Jace’s opinion, with a fine taste in furniture.

By keeping everyone at an arm's distance Jace ensured that no one he involved himself with could get hurt. Or in reality, he could not get hurt. He was aware that the word ‘reckless’ had been thrown his way one too many times. It didn’t particularly bother him though. Better that people thought he was a loose cannon, unpredictable, than someone who could easily manipulated. This may or may not have contributed to his ‘devil-may-care’ attitude, and cocky sense of confidence.

So, when he started having these dreams of _whoever_ she was, a dark uneasiness settled over his persona. People knew that something was bothering him, but they also knew better than to ask him what was up. They just gave him a wide berth and went on their merry ways into their, Jace assumed, much simpler lives.

The whole morning the entire institute had been on tenterhooks. You could feel it pulsing through the air. The stolen whispers as people passed in the hall, and fire messages flying left, right and center as families desperately tried to contact each other, just in case. It just made Jace more on edge and bitter than he usually was. Everyone was just waiting, waiting for what many though was inevitable. The notorious mass-murder Valentine Morgenstern had escaped the Clave Guard and was now on the run, presumably to recruit his old friends and start the war of hate and violence he seemed so hellbent on achieving. He was going over the boundary security with Sebastian and a few others when he stopped talking to Jace and started towards the door. The alarm bells chiming to let them know someone had crossed the perimeter.

The tugging in his stomach spun and knotted tighter. He gripped the table and glared at the front door. _Christ, _he thought, _I really need to get laid. _

Just as the tension was reaching an all-time high and Jace’s grip almost broke through the table, that was when he heard it.

That soft lilting laugh that had been haunting his dreams for months. His head snapped towards the door to where Seb was obviously talking to whoever had tripped the perimeter alarm. Jace subtly traced over his hearing rune and listened to what they were saying. He couldn’t see whoever _she_ was as Seb was blocking the way, and it took all the strength Jace had to not stomp over there and rip him out of the way just so he could see her. The tugging sensation was humming and sparking under his skin. It made his fingers twitch.

Rolling his eyes at the eager enthusiasm the teen was clearly displaying to the dry sarcasm of the girl in the doorway, Jace’s ears pricked when he heard Seb mention taking this girl to Elodie Verlac, the head of the Institute & Seb’s mother.

Taking that as his cue from the universe to intervene and finally introduce himself to whoever this little she-devil was, Jace sauntered over to Seb, keeping a cocky grin on his face to hide the uneasy electricity which was tugging him towards her.

“No need, Seb. I’ll take her. I’m sure your mother would prefer you on duty?” Jace stood behind Seb, his silent steps surprising both him and who he was talking to. 

Seb turned around and flashed him a disappointed smile, knowing better than to tempt fate when it came to Jace.

_Poor fucker had been trying so hard. _

He struggled not to chuckle at the teens disillusioned expression and noticed a pair of green eyes peering round Seb’s body at Jace. In that moment, it was like everything stood still.

Their eyes locked, green and gold, and Jace felt the air rush out of him. Everything about her clicked. Her long copper hair fell gently down her back, her skin was the sort of milky pale that he had only ever seen on someone who had been on the wrong end of his blade, and the faded outline of a rune on her neck told him that she was a Shadowhunter…or at least, she _was. _She was staring at Jace with the same awe-struck expression he knew his face was wearing.

He slowly released the air he didn’t realise he was holding. He flashed her his signature grin, a crooked smirk he usually used to make girls do his bidding. A gentle pink flush raced up her cheeks as she looked down at her boots, kicking the ground.

_Still got it._

“Hi, I’m Jace. And you are?...”

She flashed her green eyes up to him from beneath her lashes, her full bottom lip caught between her teeth as she thought. Jace wanted to smooth his thumb over it and pull it out, but he stopped himself.

The redhead finally looked up at him, all red, white and green and smiled slightly. Embarrassment flashing through her tired eyes.

“I’m Clary. Clary Fairchild. I’m here to speak to Head Inquisitor Verlac about my father? Y’know…the recent escapee?” She looked down as she spoke, picking non-existent lint off her green jumper which Jace idly noted matched perfectly with her eyes. As if what she had just said wasn’t huge news to him. Like she was changing her mind about a food order, not admitting she was the daughter of a mass-murdering maniac. His whole body tensed.

_Valentine Morgenstern is her father. This is his daughter. Holy shit. Holy Angel._

The girl he had been having dreams about for months was _Valentines daughter?!_ Feelings flew around his mind at a million miles an hour and he struggled to form a single coherent line of thought. One thing he did know was that he was completely and utterly fucked.

_How could THIS be the will of the Angel?_

Jace didn’t know how long he had been standing there, presumably gawping like a fish before a small voice interrupted his internal monologue.

“Uh - I hate to break up…whatever it is that you’re doing there, but I need to see Elodie.” She huffed, hand on hip. “Are you taking me to her or not, Jace?”

Annoyance laced her lilting voice – Jace smiled. Feisty one, eh? He liked that.

Feigning ignorance at his rude behaviour, he made a swift apology, silently wondering why she didn’t appear as affected as he felt. Perhaps she couldn’t feel what he could. That pulling – the tugging intensity laced with an electricity that seemed to crackle with warmth as they unconsciously moved closer to one another.

“But of course, my apologies. If you’ll follow me, Clary. I think you’ll find the sights along the way quite…striking.” He winked at her and she bit her lip and nodded. His double entendre was clearly not missed.

Angel, was she trying to destroy him?

He took his time as he led her through the old building towards the top floor where Elodie’s office was. Jace knew this building like the back of his hand and used this knowledge to his advantage to point out places of interest and attention-grabbing facts along the way. For some reason unknown to him, he didn’t want her to think that he was just a pretty face. It wasn’t every day that you got to explore the biggest Shadowhunter Institute in Europe.

As they arrived at the door, Jace knocked. Two solid raps against the oak wood ringing out in the otherwise silent hallway. Jace could feel Clary standing next to him…close to him. Her breathing coming out in shallow pants. He guessed she was nervous about the news she was about to hear.

He looked round at her, concern in his golden eyes as if to say, _Are you okay?_

Her green eyes looked surprised, but he could see the anxiety and nerves swimming behind them. She gave him a small nod, her bottom lip running ragged between her teeth, in what Jace now knew was obviously a nervous habit.

Again, it seemed as if the world had stopped as they lost themselves in the eyes of the other when the door behind Jace flew open, and Elodie Verlac stood behind them, a frazzled look upon her face.

She shot a questioning glance at Jace who shrugged at her and made his way inside the room, plopping himself down on one of the leather armchairs and gesturing Clary to do the same.

Elodie followed them back into the room, smoothing her hands over her skirt before sitting down and facing the both of them. She looked so much like Jace’s mother sometimes it almost through him off. But he knew from experience that she could never replace her, no matter how hard he had tried. He'd just have to settle for an aunt.

“You must be Clary, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to meet when you first moved here. How are you finding London? Settled in?” She graced Clary with a motherly smile, her dark blue eyes raking over Clary’s small frame perched stiffly in the armchair.

Clary nodded and smiled slightly. “Uh yeah, I think I finally am. Well…I was. Until Seb called this morning. Guess I’m not as done with the Shadow world as I had hoped.”

Her tone was lined with disappointment. A bitter edge against the world she had made for herself.

Jace glanced at her as she looked back down to her lap, speaking to her hands. He could see the deep breathes she was taking as if to stop herself from either screaming or crying. He wasn’t sure which, but he didn’t like either. He wanted to comfort her, but knowing he couldn’t, settled on a concerned look.

“So, my father has escaped. I’m not going to ask how; if I’m being honest, I don’t really want to know. I just want to know what that means for me…and my freedom.”

Jace almost didn’t hear that last part, frowning at her clear struggles with being part of two worlds. He couldn’t sympathise with her. Being a Shadowhunter was all he had ever known. But he still felt for her struggle.

Elodie cleared her throat and plastered that fake smile on that she used when she wanted to soften the blow of bad news. He tried his best not to snort.

“Well, Ms Fairchild, as I am sure you’ve worked out…we’re going to have to bring you out of retirement. Help you activate your runes again and perhaps get in some preliminary training, which can either be done at your home or the institute, whichever is more comfortable for you.” She tucked a strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear before continuing to speak. Clary nodded solemnly, still staring at her hands folded on her lap. 

“Also, as I am sure you’re aware…Your advanced angel abilities put you at higher risk of being a target. As are you, Jace. Given you are both of the Angel Raziel, I am pairing you together for protection purposes.”

_Protection purposes? Clary has Angel blood? What the fuck?!_

Jace leapt to his feet, his anger bettering him yet again and knowing Elodie was going to make him pay for it. But he knew she was probably expecting this reaction from him.

“On what planet, Elodie, have you ever seen me require protection from someone? And I am sure, that Clary can look after herself. After some re-training, of course.” He stopped to smile apologetically at her and was relieved when he saw the same fire in her eyes as he felt.

Clary got up and stood next to Jace, her mouth set in an angry line, green eyes flickering with frustration. “I can look after myself, Elodie. Really, I’m not that out of shape. And I am sure Jace has better things to do than babysit me.”

Elodie smiled knowingly between the two of them and clasped her hands behind her back. Clearly happy with something that neither Jace nor Clary could see. They both huffed in annoyance at her weary happiness.

“That may be the case, but as the Head of this institute I get to make the calls, and not you two. So, as my late husband would say, suck it up. Work it out between you, I don’t care, but what I say is final.”

She nodded for them both to take a seat, which they did begrudgingly.

_At least you’ll get to see her more often…_

Jace recognized the slightly worried look return to Elodie’s face and he furrowed his brow in confusion. Clary was glaring ahead, arms crossed.

“Now, we know Valentine has escaped Idris and is now on the run…somewhere but not where we can reach him. We also know the his experimentations that he performed on himself while in prison were somehow successful and has successfully merged his Shadowhunter DNA with that of a Demon. The first mutant hybrid of his kind and extremely dangerous. He has captured and imprisoned the five Lords of the Downworld and is drawing power from them. As this is the first time this has occurred in all of Shadowhunter history, we are at a loss at the current time how to stop him. But we know we must be vigilant. So, for now, we prepare for war.”

She tried to keep her voice confident and strong but Jace had known her long enough to know when she was just as scared as Jace felt and Clary looked. Whatever Clary had been expecting to hear this morning, it clearly was nowhere near what they had just learned.

Getting up, Jace placed his hands on his hips, glancing down at the silent Clary before snapping back to Elodie.

“Is that all, ma’am?”

Jace felt Clary stand up next to him, shuffling her bag back over her shoulder.

“For now. Keep your phones on you and be vigilant.” She nodded at them both and sat down at her desk as another fire message appeared in front of her. She waved her hand at them both, dismissing them.

He followed Clary out of the room, shooting Elodie a glance before closing the solid door behind them. He watched as Clary let out a shaky breath.

“Hey...are you okay? I know that’s a lot to take in.” He took a step towards her, the current rippling happily. Jace could have sworn he saw he tense shoulders relax minutely.

She started shaking her head but quickly changed to a sharp nod, her red hair bouncing round her leather clad shoulders. Her eyes were brimming with frustration and another emotion he hadn’t expected, fear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She started hurriedly, “Do you want to come back to my place or train here?” effectively changing the conversation away from her.

Jace’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He wished she didn’t just brush him off when clearly, she wasn’t okay. But he didn’t know her well enough to push it yet, so he let it slide, mentally noting to bring it up at a later date when they were better acquainted.

He gestured down the hall as he started walking, slowing his steps so she could keep up.

“We should probably train here. Seeing as we have all the equipment here and It would be good to see how you fight so I can get a good idea of who I’m supposed to protect.” He tried his hardest not to sound condescending but as the words left his mouth, he knew he hadn’t entirely succeeded. Her annoyed huff proved it.

“Fine. Lead the way then, I guess.” She stomped along behind him, keeping up with his longer strides.

Moments later they were in the training room. Clary had shed her jacket and bag and had pulled her long hair up into a ponytail, revealing the long line of her neck, marked with faded runes. Jace hurriedly turned away from her as she stretched, pretending to check his blade. But in reality, he was just trying to distract himself so he didn’t have to see her bent over in front of him, and she wouldn’t have to see his obvious boner.

_Angel, what are you? 12? Get a grip Herondale. _

A few minutes later, when things in his pants had subsided and Clary had finished her stretches, Jace turned to her, stele in one hand and blade in the other.

“Okay, this may sting a little. You ready?” Her eyes were determined as she looked at him. Jace could see that for some reason she trusted him. He didn’t want to tell her not to quite yet.

Jace took a step closer to her, their bodies almost touching and the tugging electricity crackling in ways that made his breath hitch. He cleared his throat nervously as he ran his stele over her faded neck rune, an _iratze. _

_Gentle. Soft. Vanilla. Lavender. _

Clary cursed softly under her breath, eyes fluttering closed as he moved onto other runes on her arms. Jace frowned and glanced up at her with apologetic eyes for what seemed like the tenth time that morning. He knew it would have stung after having been dormant for so long.

Finally, he was done, at least with the ones she was letting him see. Jace then took a step back, already missing the crackling warmth of being so close to her. Clary seemed to be missing it too, as a small frown flittered across her delicate features.

“Shall I demonstrate my training on this dummy?” She motioned to the human shaped punching bag hanging from the ceiling, “Or you? Which dummy is it gonna be?”

She snorted at her own terrible joke and Jace bit back a laugh at her attempt at lightening what was quickly becoming the most intense day of his life.

Jace gestured towards the bag, smiling cockily at her. “I think I’ll let you practice your skills with something that can’t fight back first. Then you can work up to me, kay?”

Clary rolled her eyes, but he could see the smile on her face as she turned to the punching bag.

“You might need this too.” Jace gently threw the blade towards her, and her hand shot out to the side, catching it without even turning to look at him.

A breathy laugh came from her and she looked over her shoulder at him. “Thanks”

After a few minutes of Clary kicking and punching the bag, she hacked and sliced away, far more skilled than Jace had previously given her credit for. Suddenly, she stopped and grabbed her stele from her pants pocket and while holding the bag in a headlock (which was way sexier than Jace had ever imagined) she drew a rune Jace didn’t recognise on the shoulder of the dummy, which promptly exploded in a pile of dust on the floor. 

_Angelic blood powers. Nice. _

“Well, I have to say Fairchild, you are a lot better than I thought you would be.” He smiled crookedly at her, rising from his sitting place on the bench, and walking towards a now slightly breathless Clary. She looked radiant, her green eyes sparkling with warmth. For him. The electricity between them crackled and exploded. 

_Angel. She is going to be the death of me. _

Clary smirked, clearly happy with her performance and grabbed her back and jacket, slinging it over her shoulder and walking towards the door. Jace stood still, wondering where she was going.

“Are you coming to scope my house for bad guys or not, Jace?” She kept walking, never looking back at him.

Jace shook his head from the oncoming dirty thoughts that were still swimming round his head at the idea of being alone with Clary in her house and grabbed his leather jacket from the bench behind him and quickly shrugged it on.

“Of course, right behind you.”

_Wouldn’t miss it for the world. _


End file.
